


warm colours

by mystified (starryfuck)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (kinda), Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, atsumu phone sex operator, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28896267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryfuck/pseuds/mystified
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi never expected to find that the hot voice of his phone sex operator also had a hot body (and was also in his new class).
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 207





	warm colours

**Author's Note:**

> ayo this was inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/emsby4/status/1351007199322107906?s=20)!

Sakusa Kiyoomi had two problems.

His first was the six foot tall man sitting opposite him who just introduced himself as  _ Atsumu, _ who looked too cocky for just having answered what his favourite colour was. (Orange.) His legs were spread too far apart to even be considered normal manspreading, and his arm was slung leisurely across the back of his seat. His hair was an ugly blond. 

The second problem?

The sudden tightness in his jeans. 

_ Atsumu _ looked around their circle of twenty people, eyes landing on him. Sakusa caught his gaze, holding it for a moment to analyse brown eyes before darting away to the professor. He lifted an ankle to his knee, resting it there, and kept his hands loosely clasped at his lap in what he hoped appeared as a casual position. 

_ “Name’s Miya Atsumu and my favourite colour is orange ‘cuz it’s the colour my brother hates the most,” _ he had said, flicking his bangs back with a jerk of his neck. Sakusa instantly recognised his voice. It was a voice dipped in sugar with honey soaked words dripping from his lips. It was a voice that seemed to speak in cursive and elongated letters with an easy mellow drawl. It was the voice that murmured in his ear late at night, telling him to put another finger in himself.

Sakusa was sweating by the time it was his turn to speak. “Sakusa Kiyoomi. My favourite colour is…orange because…uh…it’s the colour of the hat my mother gave me when I was five.” 

(His favourite colour was not orange.)

“Must’ve been quite a hat,” Atsumu said, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a half smirk. 

Sakusa’s mouth went dry. Atsumu’s voice smothered him, and sent him hurtling back to nights when he would touch himself for minutes past his orgasm, just to please a voice from his phone. Just to hear the voice call him  _ good _ and  _ sweetheart _ and  _ baby. _

“Yeah. Still have it,” he muttered to the floor. 

It was the first day of his photography course, and apparently, he shared it with his usual phone sex operator. 

Sakusa shifted in his seat, willing his problem to go away. There were still under two hours until the class ended and all he wanted to do was to stick a hand down his pants and jerk himself off until the voice–– _ Atsumu’s _ voice–– told him he could stop. 

He peeked at Atsumu again, who on second thought, didn’t look too bad. His shirt was tight and hugged every line of his chest and stomach, tapering in at the waist. There were multiple rips on his jeans, with holes that only revealed smooth skin and muscled thighs, and the lazy way his hand played with a loose strand made his breath hitch. Now that he could associate a voice to a face, to a  _ body, _ Sakusa realised that his building addiction would only spiral into something worse. 

His eyes made their way to Atsumu’s jawline, having already crossed the line of appreciation into the domain of  _ devouring. _ He was  _ devouring _ the curve of Atsumu’s adam’s apple, drinking in the way his tongue swiped along his bottom lip. His eyes were brown, and Sakusa was drowning in them. They were the colour of rocks at the bottom of a hot spring, heat setting fire to skin and dried grass. The same colour of syrup, soaking into pancakes the day after he had begged into his pillow for permission to add another finger or stroke himself off faster. 

Atsumu’s eyes were brown. And they were looking directly at him. 

Sakusa blinked, pulling himself out of the embarrasing state he was in, and oh  _ god _ , his erection was not going away. 

He felt his cheeks warm and he looked back at the professor who was giving an overview of the topics they’d learn, but Sakusa could hear none of it. His mind was filled with the white noise of Atsumu’s voice through his phone, saying ‘ _ you can moan louder for me–– good, just like that sweetheart.’ _

“Sakusa?”

He jolted. 

The professor was looking at him, and so were eighteen other people. Their faces were either concerned or impassive (or infuriatingly interested in the case of a certain blond). 

“Yes?” Sakusa responded, hoping his voice was level enough. 

She assessed his face with a small smile. “Would you like to go to the front office? You look ill and I’d rather not have a student sick in my class.”

Leaving early meant going home which meant he could deal with his problem. “Ah, sure, thank you.”

“And I know this isn’t middle school, but could someone please go with him?” She looked around the circle, eyes landing on Atsumu who raised his hand––the only person to offer. “Yes, Miya Atsumu was it? Much appreciated.”

Fuck.

Sakusa, wide–eyed, turned to her just as he picked up his bag from the floor. “Ma’am, it’s alright. I know where it is.”

She smiled again, but shook her head. “Honey, it’s best to let him go with you. If you really are sick, I wouldn’t want to risk having you hurt on the way there.”

Shit.

Reluctantly, he nodded, returning her smile with tight lips. He was grateful he took his sling bag as he pulled it over his head, covering his crotch as he stood.

He put away his chair and made his way to the door where Atsumu already was, hands stuck in his pockets. Sakusa walked past him quickly, a mixture of shame and his  _ pressing need _ , urging him faster. Away from the voice behind him that went, “Hey, wait up Omi-kun! I gotta walk ya there, remember?”

He ignored it, retracing his steps to the front office which was so stupidly far. Keeping up his brisk pace, he wished he never gave out his name because now the sound of Atsumu saying  _ Omi-kun  _ was engraved in his brain.

Atsumu huffed and caught up to him, although he was never far to begin with. “C’mon man, you heard the prof, don’t get yourself hurt.” 

  
From his peripheral, he saw Atsumu looking at him, eyes going from his face to his lips to the rest of his body. He hoped he didn’t know the reason behind why he kept his bag in front of him. 

“I’m not sick.”

“Then why’s your face red?” Atsumu asked. They turned right and walked down a flight of stairs. “And ya look a little sweaty,” he added with another glance to Sakusa. 

Sakusa withheld the urge to scream. “It’s just hot.”

Atsumu hummed softly, considering the words as they continued walking. “ _ It? _ Or me? I saw ya lookin’ at me like ya wanted my clothes off––and just being honest, I’ve seen the expression lotsa times.”

Silence stretched between them as they passed more classrooms. Sakusa stayed quiet and he felt the red on his cheeks increase tenfold. A passing glance at a window affirmed it. 

What seemed like centuries passed before Atsumu spoke again. “So it is me!” he said, with a small hop to his step. “And Omi- _ kun _ , care to explain why yer bag’s in fronta yer hips instead of on the side like a normal person?” 

His hands tightened where they were sitting on the strap of his bag. “Fuck off.”

Atsumu almost laughed. “Fuck off, or fuck  _ me? _ I believe ya got the two mixed up there sweetheart because y’know, I’m not as stupid as I look.”

Sakusa wanted to  _ die. _ He stopped and turned to Atsumu with a glare, cheeks still on fire. “Fine. Yes. I recognised your voice and now my dick won’t go down. Happy?”

Atsumu grinned, all teeth and victory. “Was that a yes to my proposition?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “There’s a single bathroom down the hall that doesn’t echo much.”

Sakusa was smart, but he had no idea how to even begin processing what came out of Atsumu’s mouth. “What?” he asked. Dumbly. 

“I’m askin’ if you wanna fuck,” Atsumu replied with a pointed stare. “Or at least let me help ya with your problem.” He paused before smirking and dropping his voice lower, quieter. “I’ll make ya feel real good. I don’t even hafta touch ya. I can sit in the corner and tell you how to touch yourself if it’s my voice that gets you off.”

Sakusa opened his mouth, stupidly gaping at the man in front of him. Everything in his body was screaming and he knew there was only one right answer to the opportunity that was presented to him. “Yes,” he breathed out. 

Atsumu cocked his head, smiling like Sakusa said something cute. “Follow me.” 

Sakusa followed Atsumu to the end of the hall, and they both slipped inside the small bathroom. It’s light flickered on to reveal a room that was pretty clean, considering the standards of the general public. Atsumu closed the door behind them, flicking the lock shut and leaning against it. “So, whaddya want, darlin’?”

Sakusa swallowed. 

He hung his bag on the hook and sat on the seat of the toilet, legs spread open. In front of him, Atsumu was washed in orange, shitty lightbulb making his lips more red, setting his hair on fire. Sakusa wet his lips and grasped the front of Atsumu’s shirt, pulling him down into a kiss, all teeth and tongue and hunger. His hands went to the wall behind Sakusa, crowding into his space as he pushed a knee between his legs, an offer drenched in carmine. 

They broke apart, panting. Sakusa pressed up against Atsumu’s knee, a small moan of relief drifting from his mouth as he clutched at his hips, desperation burning in his veins, threatening to split apart his skin. “Talk to me.”

From above him, Atsumu’s mouth warped into a cheshire grin. “Of course,” he cooed, leaning back, but keeping his knee where it was. He ran a finger along Sakusa’s jaw, humming softly as he pulled it down, opening his mouth and slipping in his thumb. “Good boy,” he said as Sakusa instinctively  _ sucked _ , eyes falling shut. 

“What would ya like me to do?” he asked, raking his eyes over disheveled curls and flaming cheeks, a wet mouth and pliant tongue. “Do you want me to tell you to make yourself cum three times? I know you can handle that.” Atsumu ground his knee against Sakusa’s pants, and the man moaned around his thumb. “I remember your voice too. I remember it panting, and breathless, and begging for me to let ya stop––but more often it was just _ please _ , wasn’t it, baby?” 

Sakusa nodded, hands gripping Atsumu’s thighs. He rolled his hips to meet his knee, the only reprieve from the desire clawing at him. He felt Atsumu push down on his tongue and all he could do was relent, breathe through his nose and swirl his tongue along the digit.

“Do you want your jeans off?” Atsumu asked, punctuating his question with another hard press of his knee, eliciting a strained gasp. 

“Only if you want me to have them off,” he said around Atsumu’s thumb. His words came out bronze and malleable. 

Atsumu lit up, eyes gleaming. “Omi-kun, yer adorable.” He slid his thumb from Sakusa’s mouth and he watched as he leaned forward, as if missing the feel of it. A thin strand of spit connected them and he smeared his thumb along Sakusa’s cheek, other hand unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants to reveal the outline of his hard on in his boxers. 

“Be a good boy for me and suck me off first, will ya?” His tone implied that there wasn’t really a choice, but Sakusa would have chosen it anyway. He freed Atsumu’s dick, one hand wrapping around its base and another resting on the back of his thigh, bringing him close until he was almost suffocating. He opened his mouth and licked along the underside, tongue flicking his tip. He cast his eyes upward to watch Atsumu’s expression melt into pleasure. 

Their eyes locked and Sakusa swore he saw embers drift in the gold lakes of Atsumu’s irises. Atsumu tangled his hand into Sakusa’s hair, holding it back and watching as he took in more of his dick, cheeks flushed. “Your mouth feels so good,” he said, words falling out with a moan. He cupped his cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone, almost reverently, and Sakusa tilted his head into the touch. 

Atsumu knew his hands were warm, but the temperature of Sakusa’s skin rivalled that of a forest fire. His tongue swirled around Atsumu’s length and his hand pumped what he couldn’t comfortably take into his mouth. 

“I’m sure you can go deeper than that, darlin’,” Atsumu cooed. He hooked a thumb into Sakusa’s mouth, prying it open and pushing his dick in a little further, watching his mouth with greedy eyes. “Much better,” he sighed, slowly fucking into his mouth, hand pulling on Sakusa’s hair. 

Sakusa breathed through his nose, shutting his eyes as he let Atsumu use his mouth. Both hands were on the backs of Atsumu’s thighs, feeling the tightness of his muscles as he moved, slow enough so he wouldn’t choke, but hard enough that the bathroom was filled with obscene wet noises, clouding the air around them. His dick was aching in his pants, but he didn’t dare make a move to touch it, recalling a time when Atsumu’s static-filtered voice told him he couldn’t. 

He heard Atsumu laugh above him, and he looked at the way he grinned down at him. “Do ya let all the guys you meet do this to you?” he asked, teasing. “I’d be concerned if my client had so little boundaries.”

Sakusa grumbled around Atsumu’s dick, who only let out another strained moan. He tapped against the back of Atsumu’s thigh, telling him to pull out, and he complied. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at Atsumu whose concerned features warped into something half amused at seeing the blush on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“I’m not your client now, am I?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t remember being asked to pay for anything.”

“Hmm...yer right. We’re doin’ each other favours.” 

Leaning down, Atsumu caught Sakusa in a kiss, hand going to his clothed dick and grinding his palm against it. He ate up the gasp that left his mouth and sat himself on Sakusa’s lap, pulling away and yanking his own shirt off in one fluid motion. He slung his shirt over the bag hanging on the wall and brought himself closer. 

The air was heavier and Sakusa opened his mouth to Atsumu who licked along the seam of his lips, not untouched by his teeth. His hand curled up his neck, tugging at black curls, as his other unzipped Sakusa’s pants. 

“We gotta make this quick,” Atsumu murmured against his lips. “Don’t think the teach will believe that we got lost.”

Sakusa nodded, panting softly before running his hand along the lines of Atsumu’s stomach, dropping kisses along his neck. He rolled his hips into Atsumu’s palm, dick now free from the confines of his jeans and he groaned quietly, forehead dropping to rest on Atsumu’s shoulder. 

“Can I take your shirt off? Don’t want it t’get stained,” Atsumu asked, pressing their lengths together, a hand stroking them both. 

Breathing out a small, “Yes,” Sakusa hooked an arm around Atsumu’s neck with his free hand going down to their dicks, matching Atsumu’s needy pace. Together they pulled his shirt off, dropping it on top of Atsumu’s, who let out an appreciative whistle. 

“If I knew my client had a six pack, I’d be doin’ more than just tellin’ ‘em to fuck themselves on their fingers.”

“Shut up and touch me,” Sakusa replied, flicking the back of Atsumu’s neck.

“I thought you wanted me to talk, sweetheart,” he replied, voice back to it’s low octave, tone itself promising devastation. Atsumu gripped their dicks and held Sakusa’s chin as he spoke. “Which one is it?” 

Atsumu’s eyes seemed to flash and Sakusa knew he watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Talk,” he whispered, captivated. “And touch me, please.”

Atsumu’s only warning was a wink before he connected their mouths again, kissing him like a glutton, drunk on the taste of swollen lips the colour of peaches. Everything was  _ dirty, _ from their moans filling concrete walls to the spit and precum mingling between their hands. Atsumu’s voice was hoarse and low, broken apart by long moans, but he still managed to bite out filthy little praises in the moments they pulled away for air. 

Sakusa touched every expanse of skin presented before him, and he felt a twisting, writhing thing building in his gut. It had been ages since he had been so close to another person, so hot, so  _ desperate. _ Atsumu made him ravenous, and the fact that his hands, lips, thighs, were consuming every inch of him only made him run faster to the fire of his own wants. Of his body’s own insatiable  _ needs. _

He let out a throaty groan, nails digging into Atsumu’s shoulder. “Close,” he gasped, turning his head to the side to let Atsumu drag sloppy kisses along his jaw. At the word, Atsumu started jerking them off faster, movements hurried and spurred on by the upwards cant of Sakusa’s hips. 

Atsumu panted, words stumbling around stuttered breaths, accent more prominent. “Ya always make the same sound before y’cum. Been drivin’ me crazy, Omi-kun.” 

With that and a final harsh pump of Atsumu’s hands, Sakusa caught on fire. His skin ignited and burned for both eons and seconds and Atsumu crumbled right after him. They moaned in unison as their chests were splattered with their cum, bodies relaxing and falling into one another. Their breaths were heavy and Atsumu would have been content to stay there a minute longer if it weren’t for Sakusa’s slight recoil at the slow drip of cum down his chest. 

Atsumu stayed seated on his thighs and grabbed toilet paper, gently wiping down their torsos. He chucked the paper into the bin and stood shakily, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Hey,” Sakusa started. “How did...how do you remember my voice? An the uh...the sound I make before I…” he trailed off. 

Atsumu gave Sakusa his shirt before he put on his. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled. “I’d be a bad operator if I didn’t remember the sounds of my most frequent customer.”

Sakusa’s eyes widened, face staying a deep red as he dressed. “I’m your most frequent?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “Usually every other week on Tuesdays, am I wrong?”

Maybe a little broken, Sakusa stumbled as he stood. “You’re kidding me.” 

Atsumu slid a hand around Sakusa’s waist, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “You should know by now, I only tease.” He reached a hand down to Sakusa’s ass and gave it a firm squeeze before opening the door and stepping out. 

“Oh and Omi-kun? Don’t wait until Tuesday to call me again.”


End file.
